Missing
by Cibbsoldlady
Summary: Lily and James are alive, and return with their other children years after the battle of Hogwarts. Sadly, a broken Harry left the Wizarding world years before... After trying every magical route to find him, they go to new Scotland yard... and find much more then they expected. Past Harry/ginny. Current Sherlock/Molly. John/Mary (Chap 2 spell checked.)
1. Chapter 1

**Past Harry/Ginny. Current Sherlock/Molly. John/Mary with the baby of course. ^.^**

 **Lily and James are alive, and return with their other children years after the battle of Hogwarts. Sadly, a broken Harry left the Wizarding world years before... After trying every magical route to find him, they go to new Scotland yard... and find much more then they expected.**

 **This is a try at a emotional fic about abandonment, and it's long term affects. I will try my best to do it justice to the picture I have in my head. I hope it all works out like a I hope! Thank you all for reading!**

* * *

 **January 6th, 2000**

Harry felt nothing but pain. Emotional pain from biggest back-stabbing of his life, Physical pain because of the cuts and wounds inflicted on him during his last fight, mental pain from fighting off the imperious curse before that...

Just pain... Just the pain of Heartbreak, weariness, and betrayal. So he ran. Turned and ran like a bat out of hell. Ignoring the screams of the two women behind him to come back.

As as soon as he was out of the wards, He turned heel and apparited away. That was the last the Wizarding world saw of Harry Potter.

* * *

 **December 10th, 2015**

Detective Lestarade sat at his desk, drinking his coffee as he read a few reports. The picture of his daughter and his Ex-wife the only personal items among the paper clips, files, and other random things on his desk. He sighed as he finished his last report and tossed it in the "Out" box with a flourish. He then leaned back more in the chair as he worried about the state of things...

December had just started, but already he was worried. Sherlock was back and safe at home, he had his daughter for winter break, His cheating ex wife had been very quiet, and John and Mary had a healthy baby girl... yes.. It was all good.

Too good.

The other shoe was going to drop soon, he was sure. His Ex would scream to spend time with her daughter, His daughter would scream that she wanted nothing to do with her mother, Sherlock would run off on one of his mad dashes soon enough... And while he wished for no harm to come to John, Mary, or little Violet he was waiting a call that would send him running to them all the same... all because of one fact.

Moriarty had yet to make a move... And that worried the hell out of him. He sighed as he hoped, and wished, for a quick end of this madding silence. He was a man of action, Damn it, not a wait-around.

It was then a Soft knock on the door alerted Gregory to the fact that someone was waiting for his attention. A pale faced Donavan stood at the door, and soft and pleading look in her eyes. Appearly, someone had been pouring their heart out to her, and had earned the spot in to talk to Him.. Again. Gregory inwardly sighed. while He liked working with Donavan, She just couldn't keep her heart in the right place. She was hard as nails to some people, while a push over to others. She'd made enemies out of a lot of the other women on the force by antagonizing them, but made a name for herself with her hard work and cooperation with other branches. She was cruel to Sherlock, but a sucker for a sob story.

He sat up straight in his chair as he waved her in. Wondering what she brought him this time. She stepped in, her eyes giving a silent apology.

"Sorry, Gov... But I just caught wind of a personal case." Personal case indeed... He thought, but held his tongue.

"What's the run down?.." He asked. If it was worth his time, he would give it. If not, he would hand it over to Dimmock if he had too.

"It's two Parents... They gave custody of their son, Harry Potter, to relatives before they left the country about 33 years ago... Now, they came back a found out he disappeared 15 years ago. They just want someone search the database and find if.. You know..."

She didn't need to say anymore, He knew. The "dead Database" as it was called in Scotland yard.. A list of all the unclaimed bodies in England. His face went straight as he nodded solemnly in acceptance... In the end, it was just two parents that made a horrible mistake that wanted to know if their son was dead. It was a quick request, and the search wouldn't take that long to do... And if it could help two grieving parents, He'd do it.

Donavan turned and went to retrieve the to parents, as Greg straightened up his tie, and then his desk. A few seconds later the couple walked in. The woman had striking red hair pulled back into a knot at the nap of her neck and high cheekbones. The man was tall, noble looking with messy black hair and glasses. Gregory got up and greeted them solemnly. The man obviously had a stiff upper lip, and was taking this meeting with all the professionalism and calmness an Officer or army man would. The woman though, looked heartbroken and defeated. She looked around the room without actually seeing anything, and was nearly crying already. It was a if he had already told her boy was gone.

They quickly exchanged pleasantries then they all took a seat. Lestarade flipped through the file that had come in with them, and only after checking it over, did he then then ask the first question he normaly asked parents whose child was missing.

"Do you happened to have a photograph?..."

To which the gentlemen reached into his pockets and pulled out three different photos.

"They are a bit old... One was on the Christmas before he disappeared, the others are when he was 11 and 13..." The man said. Lestrade nodded as he looked at the newest photo first. A young man with very black hair, short, sharing a dance with a red haired girl. It was an photo that was caught at a bad time, it seemed, as they were nearly blocked by another couple, another red headed person with a bushy brown hair girl smiling happily. It was obvious the picture was of the other couple, but the boy and his girl were also in it, if just on the sidelines... it wasn't a good picture to go by.

The next picture was a bit better. It was the same young man, looking at the camera, next to a large tree by a lake. The lighting was good, and his hair was just as short. He was smiling and waving, more then likely at the person with the camera. He looked about 13 in this one. the sun glare was a bit much. but it was good.

But it was as he turned to the last picture that his breath caught and his mouth dropped open. It was 11 year old boy, with wild, unkempt hair. Unsmiling. With a thin, serious face, and obvious cheekbones... With bright, intense eyes... and a red and gold scarf wrapped tight around his neck. It was then the Lestarade rushed back to the other photos and did a double take.. a closer look confirming his suspicions.

The black hair.. The cheekbones.. The long, floating coats.. the Bloody scarfs. He cursed under his breath, and turned to look at the two people in front of him.

"Don't worry.. I know just where to look." he said angrily as he grabbed his cell phone.

* * *

Sherlock walked into Scotland yard once again. Police officers and others more custom to his presence simply looking and giving him a nod, others looking away in shame. Those newer to his presence lit up with ether excitement or shock. Sherlock just walked past them all, leaving John to the nods and scowls.

He quickly made his way to Lestarade's office. When he opened the door, he froze. First because of the deadly look in the other detective's eyes...

Second because of the two people sitting in the office. Both who stopped and turned and looked at the door, and both froze. Sherlock froze as he saw them too. All three of there eyes widened as they took in the site of one another..

And for the first time in 28 years Lily and James looked at their first born boy. He stared back.

"Hello, **_Harry Potter_**..." Lestarade growled, obviously beyond pissed.

Sherlock, AKA; Harry Potter just stood frozen in the door. Not sure at all about what to say or do...

Then, all of a Sudden. Sherlock balled his fist, took a few steps forward, and punched his biological father square in the face.

* * *

A/N; I just found out that Sherlock in Canon was born in 1980.. As was Harry potter... And Daniel Radcliffe and Benedict Cumberbacth both have Blue eyes, Cheekbones, and look good in suits. There have also been a few "Sherlock is Harry" Stories already, so I felt pretty good about mixing the two. I Hope you guys like!


	2. All's fair in Love and War

Thank you guys so much for the reviews and the favorites! I didn't know how this story was going to go over, so I am glad that it is holding out so far. Take care, everyone, and enjoy!

And Happy Valentines Day, everyone!

 ** _~Cibbs old lady_**

* * *

5:15; Sherlock, You have some explaining to do. You just punched a 55 year old man, IN THE MIDDLE OF SCOTTLAND YARD, and then LEFT...

5:17; GET BACK HERE!

5:20; Sherlock, The couple are saying that they are your parents... That they are your parents, And that your real name is Harry, and that they want to talk to you...

5:21; Sherlock, I need answers, NOW!

5:23; Is this a trick? Is that why you are staying away? Are they part of plan or something?

5:25; SHERLOCK BLOODY HOLMES, PICK UP YOUR DAMN PHONE!

5:30; They are demanding that I take them to you, But I don't know WHERE THE BLOODY HELL YOU ARE...

5:35; You better Be at 221b! We are headed there now.

5:45; Lestarade is with us. You know. with Me, and your REAL parents.

5:46; WHICH is ridiculous because I thought me and Mary spent Christmas with your parents...

5:47; And they know nothing about Mycroft...

5:48; And are now refusing to talk.

5:50; Sherlock, If that is even your real name, PICK UP THE BLOODY PHONE!

6:00; Pick up, you prick!

6:30; Sherlock, Lestarade just told me they admitted to giving you up as a baby... Please, just answer the phone...

6:31; PICK UP THE BLOODY PHONE, OR I SWEAR TO GOD!

6:32; I swear to god if you are getting high, Sherlock...

6:35; Pick up your phone and answer me now...

6:45; Please, Sherlock, just answer...

6:55; Don't do this. Just don't.

6:58; Come home.

7:00; Mary and the baby are here now.

7:03; COME HOME... PLEASE...

7:05; Mrs. Hudson is panicking.

7:10; You know you shouldn't be alone.

7:15; I'm getting very, very worried now...

7:18; PLEASE, JUST THINK ABOUT THIS!

7:20; We'll send everyone away. Just call.

7:21; Please Call.

7:22; Dear god, Sherlock, Just call, please...

7:23; I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...

7:30; It's been over two hours! CALL ME!

* * *

He read through the text messages again, His eyes glazed over as he gulped down another swig of rum from the bottle he had pilfered.

He should text John back, but he just couldn't... He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Because _James_ and _Lily_ were still there, and he just wasn't able to deal with them just yet.

When he had first seen them, he had thought it was a trick... for all of two seconds. Then he deduced them, and knew for sure that this wasn't a ploy by an enemy or the Wizarding world to get him back... They were just as they seemed...

A Middle-aged couple, happily married for 37 years (State of both of their wedding rings.). One, a life long Auror, (Clothes, Gant, Tie,) Very close to retirement, (Wand hand, worn holster) that just moved from Australia back to England a year ago. (residue on shoes, wear on his pocket watch) The other, a charms mistress (hands, hidden wand holster, teacher-like eyes and chin), full-time school teacher and part-time mother (stare, clothes, gait.) that had moved with her husband, and was nearly approaching retirement herself, but at a slower pace.

They had three children.. Two boys, one girl.. Well, four children, if you count the son they abandoned... Him.

One boy, the one born after him, was still in Australia, working on his own career. (Ink from writing letters on both their hands.) The other son and the daughter came to stay with them in England, and they had a large Italian lunch together today. (Stains on their clothes from pasta sauce, one on the mother's sleeve from wiping it off her child's mouth, even though he was old enough to do it on his own with a napkin...)

And, sadly, he had not known any of them were alive. Honestly, he had believed his parents to be DEAD... how could he have expected siblings?

Everyone had told him that his parents were dead... Everyone _believed_ they where dead... He had visited their bloody graves, more then once for christ sake..

But that was yet another lie...

His heart ached and pounded. In his mind palace, he could hear a little boy locked in the cupboard screaming.. He quickly threw up another wall up in his mind, and silenced him. No, No, he couldn't let him out just yet. He couldn't allow himself to feel, or to have a breakdown at this moment.

In his head, He started to recite three of the Holmes family rules like a mantra;

 _Caring was not an advantage.._

 _Sentiment is a defect found in the losing side.._

 _Feelings will betray you, but logic stands.._

He closed his eyes, and worked quickly on his Occulmency shields. He would need them for was was coming up in the near future..

Current Priorities:

 _Gain information on;_

 _1\. How they survived._

 _2\. If they had any contacts on this side of England._

 _3\. His siblings._

 _4\. On who knew they where alive._

 _5\. Why they stayed away._

This was a good start for what he would need.

John had probably already called in the homeless network and Mycroft already. So he would be found quickly... possibly within the hour. He just had to stay right here, were he was, and let them come to him...

He would be ready. He downed another large gulp from the bottle of rum, and then stepped determinedly into his mind palace..

It was time to start getting ready for war.

* * *

Molly Hooper was washing her hands off when she first noticed something wrong. Dave Blake's lab coat, the one he always kept hanging up with his key card, was there.. But with the keycard gone. She stared at it for a moment, as the water ran down her wrists, but shook it off.

The second thing was a bit more noticeable... Her boss's office door open, and the desk ransacked. She had been walking by when she suddenly stopped in her tracks, and walked backwards to get a second look... Yes, it looked like someone had been searching for something quite passionately. Considering her boss was a drunk, and slipped into fits of rage every now and then, she COULD assume it was him... But he had never messy-upped his own office before...

But it was the third thing that made her pause, and realized what was going on. Sherlock's jacket.

He loved his jacket, and never let it out of his sight... So why was it on the floor of one of her lab rooms, next to the microscope he liked best?...

She quickly scanned the lab room, then the other two lab rooms. When that was fruitless, she tried the open morgue, but found no trace of him. That was when remembered the key card, and took her own out...

She went to the locked ward first. No luck. Then morgue containment. Thank goodness, he wasn't there ether... She was starting to panic now. She was losing her breath, and her hands where shaking. She KNEW he was here, She KNEW he was nearby... and she knew something was wrong.

But WHERE?...

It was then an idea hit her. She ran quickly to the "Cooler"... a large, walk-in refrigerated room that was attached to the lab...

That was there she found him...

Eyes closed, listless, with a near-empty bottle of rum in his lap.

She tossed the rum bottle angrily across the room. She grabbed him from under his arms, and dragged him out of the cooler by her own strength, struggling with every pull. She slammed the cooler door shut with her foot... Sherlock was chillingly cold, but breathing and responsive... and more then a little drunk, She assumed.

She rested his back against her, and tossed his jacket over the rest of him. She held onto him tight as she grabbed at her cell phone from her own lab coat..

Three missed calls and three texts from John... One missed call from "X"...

Flipping quickly through her contacts, She clicked on the person listed as X. She waited with baited breath as the phone rang twice.

"Yes?..." Was the hurried response when the phone was answered.

"Mycroft, I've got him. At St. Barts."

"Is he well?"

Molly looked down to his cold, pale face.

"No... no, Not at all. Get here, quickly..."

"On my way." The phone clicked, and the line went dead.

Molly continued to hold on to Sherlock and rub his arms to make him warm up faster... even after he slowly opened his eyes and became aware... The whole room was silent, and nothing was said between them. But somehow, someway, The silence was more reassuring.


	3. Then and Now

**December 20th, 2000**

 _Mycroft stormed into the St. Bart's A and E doors, His assistant and two guards in perfect step behind him. His eyes were calm and collected. He was in one of his fine suits and a long jacket. As always, he was his best-dressed and always-pressed self._

 _His head, however, was in turmoil. He didn't believe the information he was given, and couldn't for the life of him connect the dots as to HOW and WHY this had come to pass. But it had. Somehow, someway, it had._

 _He needed to know the why and the how... He needed to know soon as well, so he could try and fix it. That was what he did, after all. That was why he decided to arrive first. Before alerting anyone else of the situation. He needed to see how to best resolve this before... Outside influences... Got involved._

 _So without a glace, a sigh, a signal, or a care he walked through the A and E doors. Pass all the nurses and orderlies, into Room 7. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them. Willingly or not._

 _The guards and 'Annie' stood outside._

 _And that was when Mycroft got his first look at him. Sitting on the bed, eyes closed, looking limp and lifeless. A dark mess of black hair on top his head. Pale skin, closer to someone dead then living. His arms littered with cuts and needle marks, Puncher wounds as well. Red and angry against the white of his skin and covering most of his veins. His throat and neck was one giant, nasty bruise. He was covered in dirt, with a dark blue hoody folded next to him. Not nearly enough to protect him from a London Winter. Mycroft stepped closer to him, and the patient responded by opening his eyes. Mycroft froze as his mind deduced what he was seeing._

 _Tired, light-less, cold eyes stared back at him. The eyes of a truly broken man._

 _They were the eyes of a man that WANTED to die._

* * *

 **Back to December 10th, 2015.**

The A and E doors opened again, and Mycroft could barely stand the dammed silence anymore.

"Why is it always _St. Bart's?..."_ Mycroft spat, as 'Alyssa' chuckled.

"It _is_ Sherlock's favorite place... Lot of memories here." She quipped as she typed away on her blackberry. Mycroft huffed in response. The only outward sign that he was worried and livid. 'Alyssa's' smile dropped and she started typing more.

"Anything new?" He asked. She frowned, and read the page again.

"They're legit. They really are his parents, and they have been looking for him. But only in their world until today. That's why we weren't aware of them. I'll start digging more, but our contacts in the W.W..."

"Flighty, at best, I know. Try our personal contact. She'll be willing to help. Find out as much as you can. And quickly."

"Doing that now." She said, as she clicked away. Mycroft stormed past the nurse's desk and went to Room 10, as his assistant once again waited outside.

Sherlock had a blanket around him, and was currently trying to get past Molly to raid the medicine cabinets. Molly was having none of it, and nearly had Sherlock back in his bed. She sighed in relief when she saw Mycroft.

"Oh, Thank goodness... Talk some sense into him, please!" She called out, as she tried yanking the wrapped blanket backwards to get him to sit down.

"JUST GIVE IT!" Sherlock slurred, as he tried grabbing around her again.

"Why?... What is he looking for?" Mycroft asked with put-upon tone, afraid that he already knew the answer.

" _Morphine!"_ Sherlock snapped. "There has to be some in here, SOMEWHERE, and Molly won't let me have it!"

 **"SHERLOCK!"** Mycroft screamed in cold fury, and glare was nearly apocalyptic. Sherlock froze and stared at his brother in shock. He had seen Mycroft this mad before, but it had been quite a while since it had been aimed at _him_. But then he gathered himself and glared back at him.

 _"I need it..."_ He hissed, as he wobbled a bit on his feet.

"No, you don't." Mycroft stated firmly. "You _want_ it; there is quite a difference between the two."

"THEY will be here soon! You can't keep them away for long. I won't be able to deal without it." Sherlock explained as Mycroft winced. He hated to admit it, but he had a point. John and Mary were on the way with little Violet, and he was sure Greg and the _Potters_ would be close behind...

He sighed as he stared at Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock stared back. Molly finally shoved him back into his bed. Sherlock sighed dejectedly, knowing he was quickly losing the battle.

"Please?..." Sherlock asked weakly, turning his gaze back to his brother. Mycroft nearly twitched.

He silently wished he could bring himself to delete the memory of those eyes...

* * *

 _They were the eyes of a man that WANTED to die._

 _Fear started to creep up Mycroft's back. Fear that he might not be able to fix this one. Fix him. Mycroft pushed it down skillfully. He was Mycroft bloody Holmes after all... He would do it. No matter what. He, and England, owed him far to much not to._

 _The boy... No, the man, then glared back at him._

 _"So... Are you here to drag me back?" He asked, his voice harsh and deep from his injuries. Mycroft shook his head._

 _"No, as a matter of fact, Mr. Potter. I'm here to help you." He said, as he set his umbrella to the side, and took a seat in the chair next to the bed. Harry James Potter raised a eyebrow at the man, and still gazed at him mistrustfully. He obviously didn't believe him, or at the very least was waiting for Mycroft to name a price or demands. Mycroft, at the current moment, had no desire to ask for ether._

 _"My name is Mycroft Holmes. I hold a... Rather necessary position in the government. And I'm just here to ask you a question. We'll decide what to do, together, after that." Mycroft started. Harry raised an eyebrow._

 _"What's the question?" He asked, with a bite of mistrust to his words._

 _"Why?... Why did you do it?" He asked. Harry's eyes went wide at that._

 _"Why leave your world? Why leave your career? Why leave your wife of under a year, and why not go back? It's already been two weeks. I know they aren't telling the whole story. They are in to much of a hurry to whisk you away, back to Never-never land, as it were."_

 _Harry blinked. He then slowly, and painful, sat up in the A and E cot. He then carefully turned his body, so he could look Mycroft in the face while they talked._

 _"I should start at the beginning, I assume?..." He said, with his abused voice still straining._

 _"That would be best." Mycroft said with a small smile. He was going to the information he needed without much of a fuss, and for that he was happy._

 _His smile was quickly wiped away when the real story began._

* * *

"List." Mycroft demanded. Sherlock grumbled and dug in his pocket, pulling out a small piece of wadded paper.

Molly Hooper looked very confused at she took turns glancing back and forth at the brothers. Mycroft stepped forward and snatched it out of his brother's hand. He opened it quickly.

 _Rum_

That was the only word on it.

Mycroft turned and quickly looked over his brother. He concentrated on Sherlock's pupils and then his veins. He did smell of rum, and was obviously more then a little drunk. But there was no sign of anything else in his system. Not recently at least. At least he was still being honest with their list. But that didn't solve the problem of the choice he had before him. Mycroft took a second to think about the upcoming confrontation, and all possible outcomes. One array with Sherlock/Harry drugged, the other with him not...

The answer became quite clear very soon, and while his brother may hate him for it for a little while, it was best for everyone involved... He turned to Molly.

"You may want to leave for a moment, Miss Hooper."

Molly nodded, and reluctantly turned around to go stand outside. Mycroft then turned back to his brother.

"No. Not at all. You'll be getting nothing tonight." Mycroft answered. The look of betrayal and anger on Sherlock's face was instant.

"You've _violent_ when you're under. You know it. Your biological mother and your goddaughter will be in this room in moments. And don't think i'm above calling Mummy in, as well... She's already frantic. Be angry with me if you must, but i want to make sure you'll be able to forgive yourself for whatever you do tonight, Tomorrow."

Sherlock snapped his jaw shut. Mycroft knew it was because of Violet and Violet alone. The infant had her godfather wrapped around her finger already, and then mere thought of any harm happening to her, or even near her, would be more then enough to rein him in.

Still, the angry, hateful light behind Sherlock's eyes didn't dim. And Mycroft nearly grinned like a Cheshire cat as he realized what it meant.

"I take it you've already got a plan for our... interlopers?..."

"About 7 or 8 plans so far, yes." Sherlock said with a dark tone to his already deep voice. A smirk appearing slowly on his lips.

NOW Mycroft smiled like a Cheshire. He then moved and took his normal seat next to the bed. He liked these eyes of Sherlock's much, much better...

"Do tell, Brother mine. I'm listening."


End file.
